


On Your Blind Side

by fadeoutslow



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:01:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadeoutslow/pseuds/fadeoutslow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times. Written as part of summer slash 13 for f1slash on LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Your Blind Side

The first time, Fernando's in the UK for some media. He manages to schedule in a day off, and calls Mark. 

"I'm at home," he says. "Do you want to come over?"

"Yes," Fernando says, and he borrows a car, drives out to Mark's, only managing to get lost once, which is not bad. England's very _green_ he thinks, still somewhat damp even on a sunny summer day like this one. He finds it an oppressive place, dislikes the way the cold settles into his bones in winter, the weak light. But Mark loves it, he knows.

He's hoping they'll fuck, spend the day in bed, but when he arrives, Mark's in his biking gear. "Thought we could go for a ride," he says.

"Oh," Fernando replies, trying not to sound disappointed. "I don't have…" he starts, but Mark interrupts.

"You can borrow one of Mitch's bikes." He throws a pair of shorts and a cycling jersey at Fernando's chest. "Get a move on," he says, grinning.

Fernando scowls at him, because this isn't what he was looking forward to, but he knows better than to argue with Mark. He's just taken off his shirt, unbuttoned his jeans, when Mitch walks in, also dressed ready for cycling. "Oh," Fernando says, stopping, hand on his fly, feeling awkward. He doesn't really know Mitch, hasn't seen him in a while, and _damn_ but he's apparently grown up in that short space of time. Which makes the situation even more uncomfortable.

But Mitch just smiles at him, says, "Don't mind me." 

And Fernando could swear there's a hint of lasciviousness in his tone, something less than innocent, but before he can digest that thought, Mark says, "Just ignore him." He gestures at a door leading off the room. "Go in there and get changed," he says, and Fernando nods, does as he's told.

He takes it easy on the bike, not wanting to disturb his training program, and it's not the worst thing in the world, riding behind Mark and Mitch, enjoying the view. He's seen Mark's body a thousand times, but it's still extraordinary, the bulk of him, the _power_. Mitch is something new, not as big as Mark, more similar in size to Fernando, but thicker, compactly muscled.

Every so often Mitch glances back over his shoulder, gives Fernando a _look_ , then stands up on the pedals, leaning over, sticking his ass out and racing ahead to overtake Mark. 

And this might be only a English summer day, but it's still warm enough that they work up a sweat, riding for a couple of hours. Fernando watches Mark's legs, pumping at the bike, rivulets of perspiration dripping over the bulge of his calves, and he has to shift on his seat, lean forward to make himself uncomfortable enough that his erection subsides.

Mitch is riding beside him, staring openly now, and Fernando can only hope that when they get back the kid will disappear for a while, give him and Mark some privacy, because they haven't been alone in way, way too long, and Fernando didn't drive all this way for a fucking bike ride.

But when they return, Mark's seemingly in no hurry, and they sit outside, the three of them, in the pale sunshine, drinking beer. Mitch unzips his jersey, leans back in his chair, his legs wide, and Fernando notices Mark raise his eyebrows, just subtly, in what could be disapproval, but he doesn't say anything. 

Mitch raises one arm, sniffs under it. "Man," he says, "I stink."

"Charming," Mark says, taking a swig of beer.

"No, seriously," Mitch says. He leans toward Mark. "Smell me."

"Piss off," Mark replies, but Mitch is already laughing, shoving his armpit in Mark's face as Mark tries vainly to shoo him away. They tussle for a moment, until Mark gets a proper noseful, says, "You're fucking _ripe_ ," but he's grinning. Mitch is still laughing, and by the time he stops, he's perched comfortably in Mark's lap, looking very much at home.

And this is interesting, because Fernando had _suspected_ , but he hadn't _known_ , couldn't be certain. Mark glances over at him, smiles a little nervously, and Fernando is careful not to react, to behave as if this is perfectly normal.

Mitch takes Mark's beer from his hand, puts it on the table, and then shifts further up Mark's thighs until he's pressed up against his body. "Mitch," Mark says in a warning tone, but Mitch ignores him, pays no attention, because now he's licking at the base of Mark's throat, up and over his adam's apple, his neck, along his jaw, finally reaching his mouth, and they're kissing, the two of them, Mark and Mitch, and Fernando, it seems, can't remember how to breathe.

They pull apart, and Mitch nods in Fernando's direction. "He's into it, right?" he asks, suddenly sounding older, more knowing than he has all afternoon.

And Mark has the grace to look slightly embarrassed when he answers, "Yeah, he's into it."

They end up in Mark's bed, Mitch on his side between them with Mark's cock deep inside him, pushing him forward into Fernando with every hard thrust. Mark's got one long leg slung over Mitch's hip, and Fernando's kissing Mark over Mitch's shoulder. He's jerking Mitch and himself off at the same time, rubbing their cocks together, slick slide under his hand, and Mark's biting Fernando's lip, metallic taste of blood in his mouth as he closes his eyes and comes.

After, Fernando has a shower, and when he comes out of the bathroom, Mark is sitting up, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, Mitch curled up around him, asleep.

"Sorry," Mark says, softly.

"What for?" Fernando asks.

"I didn't, you know…" Mark looks at him. "I didn't plan for this to happen."

Fernando nods, understanding. Mark isn't that calculating, he knows. 

Mitch, however. Well. Fernando's not so sure.

-

The second time, it's a race weekend. Fernando sidles up to Mark in the paddock, squeezing the back of his neck, and Mark spins around, on the defensive, but when he sees Fernando, he relaxes, his whole body at ease, just for second amid the chaos. "Hey," he says.

"Hi," Fernando replies. He looks at Mark, waiting, then says, "GP2 are racing here this weekend, yes?"

"Yeah," Mark says, eyes narrowing, face becoming more guarded, but Fernando continues.

"I thought you and…" he pauses, not knowing the right word, not feeling familiar enough to use Mitch's name. "You and your _boy_ ," he says, and it sounds wrong, but he doesn't stop, "might want to see me."

"I don't know," says Mark, slowly. "I'll have to talk to Mitch."

"Yes," says Fernando, "you should do that."

He gets a text later in the day, and when he knocks on the door of Mark's room, Mitch answers, grinning broadly, beautiful in that way only someone so young could ever be.

This time Fernando fucks Mitch, from behind. He's on his hands and knees, Fernando's cock in his ass, Mark's in his mouth. And Fernando doesn't close his eyes, instead watching Mark's face, the way he looks down at Mitch, the way he strokes his hair, whispers encouragement to him, calls him a _good boy_ as he swallows Mark down. 

Fernando pushes into Mitch faster, more fiercely, and he's not jealous, of course, because he's not as if he's in love with Mark. What they've always done, it's just fucking, nothing else, no great romance, and seeing the affection in Mark's eyes when he looks at Mitch, the _like_ , the _regard_ , that doesn't mean anything.

Not to Fernando. 

He grabs Mitch's hips, pumps harder, holding him steady, firm enough to bruise.

-

The third time, Mitch and Mark both fuck Fernando, at the same time. Mark takes charge, which is, after all, what he does best.

Mitch lies on his back, and Fernando straddles him, sitting on his cock, then leans forward. He concentrates, staying in the moment, staying relaxed as he can as Mark slides into him from behind, cock beside Mitch's inside him, and _fuck_ , it's so good, almost too much but all the better for it, and when Mark starts to move it's just incredible, like being taken over in the best possible way.

He tries to hold his weight up on his forearms, but he keeps losing it, falling down on to Mitch's chest before he can pick himself up again. He braces himself, opens his eyes, and Mitch's face comes into focus beneath him, staring up at him with something like wonder, awestruck, almost, his gaze wide and naked and _reverent_ but Fernando can't think, can't take it in because he's falling, lost, dark and deep inside himself.

-

The fourth time, Mitch shows up at Fernando's hotel room, and he's alone. "Hi," he says, when Fernando answers the door. He glances down at the floor, almost shyly, for once looking exactly like a nineteen year old kid.

"Does he know you're here?" Fernando asks.

Mitch shrugs. "No." 

"Are you going to tell him?"

"No," Mitch says. "Are you?"

And Fernando stands aside, inviting Mitch in, knowing exactly what he's doing, the value of what he's about to break, shatter into pieces so small that there will be repairing it, no going back.

"No," Fernando says. "I'm not."


End file.
